


Pas de Deux

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Series: Consanguinity [2]
Category: Big Bang Theory
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's safer for both of them if their first time is together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pas de Deux

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Two-Step Waltz](https://archiveofourown.org/works/562637) by [Lauren (notalwaysweak)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren). 



> This was also written for the BBT Kink Meme in April 2011. I make the assumption that the Cooper family lived outside of Galveston city during Sheldon and Missy's childhood, simply because the mental image I always got of their childhood home involved more open spaces than the city allows for. I hope my readers will excuse this minor inconsistency in the light of the series' own lack of continuity at times.
> 
> As for excusing the fact that I wrote Coopercest, well, you clicked the link.
> 
> Big Bang Theory characters belong to Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady and are not being used here for profit.
> 
> * * *

Sheldon flinched as the gunshot whipcracked outside, followed by his brother's disappointed holler and his father's admonition to try again. Even in his most imaginative moments he couldn't think why jacklighting bunny rabbits was in any way entertaining, but it was spring and they were everywhere and they _were_ a pest.

He couldn't sleep. Part of it was the gunshots, infrequent as they were; part of it was that his brain seemed harder and harder to slow down. Ever since he'd gotten back from Germany he'd been hungrier for knowledge; there seemed to be gaps that he couldn't bridge, chasms he couldn't cross, but could see the ideas waiting on the other side, waiting for him.

The loose board outside his bedroom door squeaked and then the doorknob turned. Missy's white slip looked like a ghost in the darkness as she stepped into the room, closed the door behind herself, and then padded over to slide into bed beside him.

"It's not thunder, Missy."

"I know, but Dad's drunk and Mom's praying and I'm not at home to either of them."

Sheldon didn't have an answer to that, but just worked one arm awkwardly around her shoulders. Missy rolled onto her side, facing him, hand coming to rest on his chest, head on his shoulder.

"Do you think they'll ever stop?"

"Not until one of them dies." In years to come, he would remember this statement and wince. "They're too contrary not to fight, and too stubborn to divorce."

"I guess they figure they're holding the family together." She was silent for a moment, and then added, "Not that it's working, of course."

"Missy, I'd be going to college whether they were fighting or flying to the moon. I'm not giving up my life to stay here for them."

"But you love them, right?"

"Of course I do."

"And you love me, right?"

"You know I do."

Missy's hand reached up, found his cheek, turned his face towards hers. Even in the dark he could see the tear tracks down her cheeks, and when her mouth found his he let her kiss him, since she seemed to need it. She'd practiced on him a handful of times since the first, each time ending the same way: Missy blithely going out with whatever boy she was seeing, Sheldon hand-washing his underpants and praying that they weren't really doing anything wrong.

It couldn't be _all_ wrong. She was his sister, but he loved her.

"Would you stay for me?"

Sheldon was speechless a second too long and Missy let out a sob, rolling away to leave the bed. His arm reflexively tightened around her shoulders and he reached out with his other hand as well, meaning to catch her in an embrace. Instead, he found his hand cupping her breast, warm and heavy through the thin satin of her nightgown. Missy let out a gasp that was only half surprise.

"Shelly..."

"Sorry." He snatched his hand away.

"No." She pressed against him, caught his hand, held it in hers. "It's okay."

"It's _not_ okay. We can't..."

She silenced him with another kiss, and Sheldon couldn't deny that although his mind was adamant that this was wrong, his body had other ideas. He reached for her blindly and stroked the hard little peak of her nipple, drawing another gasp from her.

"Have you done this before?"

"When would I have done this before?"

"I don't know, Germany?"

"No. Have _you_ done this before?"

The heat of her cheeks as she pressed her face in against his neck was answer enough without the accompanying shake of her head. "Maybe it's better this way," she said, voice muffled. "This way we don't embarrass anyone else but ourselves."

They kept kissing, Missy clumsily undoing the buttons of Sheldon's nightshirt, Sheldon running his fingertips over her clavicle and then lower, feeling the difference between flesh over bone and simply flesh. Then she wriggled out of her nightgown, pulled his nightshirt off, and they were skin to skin as they hadn't been since they'd bathed together as children.

So much had changed.

Sheldon let Missy take the lead, let her guide his hands once she'd slipped her panties off. She was wet there, and hot, and smelled a little like the sea. He felt the little hard place under the pad of his index finger and pressed in and Missy made a strangled noise and buried her face against his chest.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No." Her breathing was uneven. "Do it again."

He did it again, and again, finding the way to rub in little circles so that Missy moved to meet his touch. She was silent now, only her rapid breaths and the movement of her body signaling for him to go on.

Just as she stiffened against him and made the same choked noise, only louder, another gunshot echoed from outside, this one followed by a whoop and a laugh. Sheldon heard the back door slam and his mother's raised voice hectoring the men, but was more concerned with his sister panting in his arms.

"Are you all right?"

"Oh, Shelly." She was still breathing unevenly. "I just wish you weren't going away so soon."

Sheldon didn't know what to say to that, especially considering what it had come on the heels of them doing.

Eventually Missy disentangled herself from him and took his robe off its hanger, wrapping it around her bare body.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back," Missy said, which wasn't an answer.

She was gone long enough for panic to seize Sheldon. This was wrong, this was bad, this was no better than the Cullums out on the point, whose eldest daughter was also the mother of at least one of her sisters. It was worse, because he loved Missy and he didn't want to hurt her. But he didn't want some strange boy hurting her either. He didn't want some boorish fool harming his sister.

Missy came back into the bedroom, less like a phantom this time, and let his robe fall to the floor. Ordinarily he would have yelled at her to pick it up, but he was fixated on the curve of her hips, the dark triangle of hair between her legs, the treasure it hid. No, he wasn't going to let just anyone be her first; he'd do as she told him and know that it was right, that she was getting what she wanted.

Her feet were cold when she slipped back into bed with him and they spent a long while just holding each other. The voices of their family had calmed outside; Mary still hadn't come back inside, but it was one of those spring nights that smelled of growing things both farmed and wild, and maybe she'd gone for a walk to cool her temper while the men kept drinking.

Missy's hand was cool when she began touching his chest, but warmed up quickly. Sheldon closed his eyes and let her do it, not holding back the soft sounds that wanted to escape when she rubbed her thumb roughly over his nipples. She was going to need to learn how to touch boys the same as she'd needed to learn how to kiss them. So far she was doing well; she'd stirred him to arousal with ease.

Her hand finally moved down and Sheldon arched up so she could pull his shorts off. She pushed the bedsheet out of the way as well and he moved one hand to cover himself, but then let it drop to his thigh. He kept his eyes closed tight and felt her fingertip run along his length.

"Tell me if I do it wrong," she whispered, and her soft little hand closed around him.

Sheldon couldn't say anything either way for the first minute, because he was struggling not to end this before it had really begun. The whimper that he heard escape his throat probably clued her in, though, because she slowed down. His brain was spinning out of control; he didn't know how to talk any more.

Her hand kept moving on him and it felt good, and then she lowered her head and her lips were on him, tongue darting out to lick tentatively at the head of him, and Sheldon cried out at the sensation.

"Uck. Salty." She lapped at him again, though, and Sheldon had to push her away.

"Stop, stop."

"Did I do something wrong?"

On so many levels the answer was yes, but Sheldon just shook his head. "I just didn't want to--"

"Oh. _Oh_." Missy curled up beside him again, hand moving back up to rest on his chest. Sheldon put his hand over it and they lay still for a moment. The only sound from outside now was the steady reep-reep-reep of crickets.

When she took his hand to guide it again some moments later, she pressed her finger along his and inside of her. Sheldon hesitated.

"Won't I hurt you?"

"I've been doing this to myself for years," Missy said simply, and Sheldon let her guide his finger into her, curving into her, finding another spot that made her press against him. He knew all the biological terminology but textbook names didn't describe the impossible slick softness of her, or the way she spread her legs wider so he could ease a second finger into her, or the way she rocked against his hand when he did.

Her hand closed over him again and made his movements falter as she stroked him. He'd been ignoring his body in general as a matter of course for years: he fed it, watered it, washed it and occasionally exercised it to keep it running properly. Anything else seemed superfluous if it had nothing to do with making his brain work. Now, however, his brain had shut down and his body had taken over and he wasn't going to be capable of thought again until this was over. He'd fallen into one of those chasms between himself and knowledge, and there was only one way to get out.

When they'd been much younger they'd gone over to the neighbors' barn from time to time, when Missy could talk him away from his studies (and she was so often the only one who could, save for their mother). It would be when the hay was brought in, when they could climb the rickety ladder to the loft and dare each other to jump down to the stack waiting below. 

In the end they'd always end up holding hands, jumping together.

They kept touching each other, movements attuned, rhythmic, harmonious. At last Missy drew her hand back and Sheldon drew his back and they looked at each other. The moonlight cast shadows over Missy's face but Sheldon believed she looked uncertain.

"Do you still want to...?" they asked in unison, and Missy let out a shaky laugh and reached to the nightstand for the thing she'd left the room for. It seemed she'd thought of the Cullums too, and didn't want their family bearing the same shame.

She fumbled a little getting the condom smoothed down over him and swore under her breath and it made Sheldon smile. Though in this particular moment everything seemed surreal, as though the full moon had gotten into his mind and this was a lunatic dream, she was still his sister, his Missy, and that would never change.

Her face was apprehensive as she stretched out on her back beside him. The single bed was narrow, not really wide enough for two, but it had never needed to be -- still didn't really need to be. He moved atop her and then let her guide him the rest of the way, slipping into the heat of her. She let out one pained gasp and he stopped moving immediately, but her hands on his hips urged him on.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I think it always hurts the first time."

Sheldon braced himself over her, watching her face for signs of pain. She was biting her lip, but he didn't think it was because it hurt. He began to move within her, slowly at first, but gradually increasing his speed as the sensation crept through his body, heat thrilling through every nerve. 

Missy was still to begin with, adjusting to the feeling, but began lifting and arching to meet his movements: she slipped one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down and Sheldon kissed her, because she'd practiced that with him and now she was practicing this with him and it couldn't be wrong because it was good, felt so good, and he rarely surrendered to sheer physical sensation but it overtook him and he rested his head down against her shoulder and whispered, "Missymissymissy," as all thought fled from him, replaced solely by pleasure. He was balanced on the edge of desire, waiting for her to dare him to jump so he could double-dare her.

She rolled the two of them over, legs tangling around his to keep him within her, and dragged his hand down to that little hard spot, and Sheldon was able to distract himself for a brief time as his fingers pressed in against her, his other hand lifting unbidden to her breast.

This time she jumped first, but only just; the clench and flutter of her around him sent Sheldon over the edge and they fell together in the end after all, Missy's body collapsing onto him as his hands found her hips and clung to her.

They recovered together as well, erratic breathing and heartbeats smoothing out, bodies finally relaxing: they'd survived the jump. All that was missing was the hay caught in their hair and clothes.

At last Missy lifted herself off him, touching herself gingerly between the legs.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No." She sounded surprised. "Well, yes. A little. But I thought it would be worse."

Sheldon sat up and reached for the tissues on the nightstand, hurrying to clean up. While the act had been better than he'd expected, the aftermath was definitely not something he wanted to deal with again. Missy pulled his robe on again and disappeared into the bathroom while Sheldon hid the evidence in his trash can, making a mental note to take it out first thing in the morning.

He was dressed and under the covers by the time Missy returned. She hung his robe up properly and yanked her panties and slip back on before diving into bed, and Sheldon automatically put his arms around her to keep her from shivering for too long.

"You better be careful who else you do that with, Melissa Rose."

"Same goes for you, Sheldon Lee." Her voice was already sleep-murmury.

Sheldon carefully pulled the covers up over her shoulders. She was silent for a long while and he thought she'd fallen asleep, was most of the way there himself, when her voice whispered out of the darkness. "Love you, Shelly."

Sheldon lifted his head and kissed her cheek. "I love you too, Missy."

* * *

When Mary came along the hallway some twenty minutes later, having informed her husband that he could make the damn couch up for himself, she was surprised to see Missy's door ajar and the bed empty. Nothing was gone, though, so she hadn't run away like she kept threatening to do. 

The process of elimination was simple; Missy avoided her parents' bedroom and said that George Jr's room stunk like an outdoor toilet full of dirty gym socks (and that was a kind description), so Mary cracked Sheldon's door open enough to see her two youngest snuggled up in bed together, like they were six again instead of sixteen.

She was angrier then at her husband than any time before. His stupid drunken antics had clearly frightened Missy badly enough to revert to her childhood habit of creeping in with her brother. She was nearly grown up; she shouldn't have to do that anymore.

The moonlight was bright enough to see Sheldon's arm securely curled across his sister's shoulders: they slept face to face, foreheads pressed together. Mary sighed and closed the door, going down the hallway to her own solitary bed.

At least they _did_ have each other to turn to.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ménage a Trois](https://archiveofourown.org/works/573846) by [Lauren (notalwaysweak)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren)




End file.
